White Memories

Woodsmoke talked about winters recently in her post and reminded me of the white memories of fog laden mornings and white nights. And today I felt the nip in the air tug at my sleeve, gently transporting me back. And hence the story...


She rubbed her eyes, wishing to rush back into her warm blanket. Then she saw the tall figure standing in the garden, dressed in a white cotton kurta pyjama with a thin shawl over his shoulder. Looking at him she dragged her feet towards the door, stopping to collect her shawl and clutch it tightly. There was a dense fog cover and she could not see anything beyond the white silhoutte.
"Good morning." she called out and the man turned, smiling at his youngest daughter.
"You are up?"
"Hmmm...what are you doing?" she asked and he smiled.
"Breathing the fog! It's wonderful. Come and try." he said and she obeyed. Standing right next to him she was shivering uncontrollably while he was oblivious of the chill.
"Let the chill be one with you. Come in contact with nature and you would not feel cold." he instructed and she looked with her young eyes up at the man.
"But Papa..."
"Shh...follow me." He said and stood with his arms outstretched, as if embracing the fog cover. His eyes closed and his mouth opened as he took in the fresh air, filling his lungs with the white blanket. Momentarily he stayed in that position and then opened his eyes.
"Your turn!"
She hesitated, not realising how it could be of any good to her, yet she followed. Her father was never wrong.
Her eyes closed and arms outstretched, she slightly opened her mouth. The cold rushed inside and she felt the air travelling through her throat and settling in her lungs. There was an uncontrollable moment of chill as her chest constricted in the cold. And then, unbelievably she felt sweat break on her forehead. Her body adjusted to the cold. She was a part of her surroundings. She turned and looked at her father, his face smiling down at her.


She closed her eyes again and felt the wind caress her senses, her heart beat wildly for a second and then she was at peace. Opening her eyes, she looked around and saw her 5 year old son looking quizzically at her.
"What are you doing ma? I am cold!" he said, rubbing his eyes.
"Doing something that my dad taught me when I was your age!"
"What?"
"You would do it?" she asked and he nodded. He would do anything his mom would say...She was never wrong.
And then she was teaching him the way once someone had taught her. looking at the white fog rushing to surround her she opened her arms...